


My Hands Are Shaking From Holding Back From You

by stratumgermanitivum, whiskeyandspite



Series: Easy Street [3]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Asexual Character, Consentacles, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Groping, M/M, Nipple Play, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, Teasing, Tentacles, The gang finds out, getting caught, shadow sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-24
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:00:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29685051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stratumgermanitivum/pseuds/stratumgermanitivum, https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskeyandspite/pseuds/whiskeyandspite
Summary: “You gonna broadcast it all over?” he asked, only half joking. He knew Alastor could, and would, if he felt Angel wanted that. He wasn’t sure he didn’t, he just didn’t want to poke a sleeping bear, as it were, and shove his freedom into Val’s face, taunting him with it.“As a five part serial,” Al replied, and his voice immediately took on that crackling, staticy quality of an old radio. “Of how I found an Angel in Hell.”ORHow the gang found out about Alastor and Angel being together.
Relationships: Alastor/Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Easy Street [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2141313
Comments: 18
Kudos: 157





	My Hands Are Shaking From Holding Back From You

**Author's Note:**

> (we remember and agree with sharing Angel's reaction to last story's contract purchase, but we've held off writing it for now... coz we have something planned for that)

* * *

VAGGIE, IN THE LIBRARY

* * *

They’d done a good job of keeping it a secret, so far. It had been nearly an entire month, and no one suspected a thing, despite the fact that neither of them had ever had a use for subtlety. And the fact that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Surprisingly, it was mostly Al. Something about having Angel at his fingertips nearly 24/7-- no more disappearing to work to keep up appearances, shielded by Charlie’s claim on her (admittedly tiny) territory-- seemed to drive him absolutely  _ wild _ . 

Frequently, Angel found himself plucked from whatever room he’d been inhabiting, falling through space and time to land comfortably in their bed at the penthouse. Infrequently, though, Al seemed content to touch him  _ right there  _ in the hotel. 

The hotel had a myriad of rooms to dwell in, and Angel had curled up in the library. It wasn’t as extensive as Alastor’s, but then, he wasn’t entirely sure Alastor’s library was  _ real _ , as opposed to an illusion that spawned whatever book the seeker might like when they reached for one. 

Still, there were a few good romances for Angel to sink his teeth into; some stuff that had fallen through along with their authors or had filtered in through humanity’s demonisation of them. Just then he was thumbing through some Harlequin book about doctors, and he was just getting to the good shit when he felt the first tickle against his ankle. 

When he looked up, Al wasn’t there.

That in and of itself wasn’t odd, Al was rarely in the same room as Angel at the hotel, or even at the hotel at  _ all _ as far as Angel could tell. And Al didn’t need to be in the same room as him to tease him; Angel had learned that real quick. 

Nonetheless, he lowered his book and narrowed his eyes at his foot, currently clothed in leg warmers and some low heels. The shadow coiled around his ankle shivered and flickered, as though tuning in and out. Angel gave it a gentle kick and it slithered away. But when Angel buried his face in his book again, he felt another curl around the other foot and lightly tug.

With a sigh, Angel allowed his leg to be straightened out, blushing. So he was close, otherwise Al wouldn’t have reached out so blatantly; sometimes he’d possessively curl around Angel when they were in the hotel, but it would be beneath a table where no one could see, but here… here he was in a loveseat by a window, where anyone could see.

The thought brought a pleasant heat to Angel’s cheeks, the faintest pink glow of his stripes. The tentacle around his ankle pet gently at his ankle, as if praising him for the color. 

“Not gonna come and say hi?” Angel asked the empty room. When no answer came, he returned to his book, but did not read it. He was on high alert, listening out for Al, waiting.

Another tentacle wrapped around his other ankle, tugging gently until Angel allowed his leg to be guided out. He’d been sitting with his knees up on the couch, but now he was slowly sinking into it, spread out across the cushions. Angel gave the flickering shadows a raised eyebrow. Al was up to something.

“You know,” Angel said, in the sort of teasing tone that could often goad Alastor into action, “This is a  _ really _ good book. If you’re not gonna come play, I’m just gonna go back to--”

Shadowy hands gripped Angel’s wrists, as a third tendril yanked the book from his fingers. 

Angel snorted, wriggling happily on the couch, and bit his lip. “Kinky.”

A flick of shadow against his face and a slight sting spread across his skin, as though Al had sharply swatted him with an open palm. Angel’s grin widened as his hands were guided up over his head and pressed deliberately to the cushions there. He knew that even if he couldn’t see the shadows or the tentacles, he wouldn’t be able to move his hands. Not that he’d even bother trying.

“Seriously? I don’t even getta see ya--”

_ “This is the library, sweetling,” _ Al’s voice hummed in Angel’s ears, static and pleasantly prickly.  _ “Do keep yourself under control, hmm?” _

“Al--” warmth pooled against his lips and his voice was muffled into nothing, as Al’s shadow materialized above him. 

This was interesting. Al used his shadows and creepy eldritch horror tentacles all the time, but it was rare he let his entire alter show itself. Angel had a delicious fantasy where he was gangbanged by an entire swarm of shadow-Als, but any time he came close to voicing it, Al took his voice away.

Kinky bastard.

He probably read minds, for all Angel knew.

So with his voice gone and Alastor’s shadow above him, Angel arched up and tried to get closer, spreading his knees in welcome. The weight that lay over him was pleasant but nothing like when Al allowed himself to lose control and press Angel into the bed. But hell, Angel would take anything.

“Ngh hnngha hhng hhe ngg hngg,” Angel mumbled.  _ You gonna touch me or what? _

He did not need to be heard to be understood. The shadow was more shape than feature, except for the glow of its eyes, but Angel imagined it was giving him a very unimpressed look indeed. 

Alastor could feel what the shadow felt, but only at a distance, and so it did not have the same limits Alastor’s body did. He still preferred to have Angel restrained, to touch rather than be touched, but he could give Angel more contact this way, and Angel revelled in it. 

The shadow pressed Angel’s knees apart, tendrils holding him open. Everything flickered in and out of sight, a badly tuned old-timey television. Angel sighed, closing his eyes as magic sparked at his throat like teeth. 

Angel had worn hot pants today, because they went  _ so _ well with leg warmers, and now they hid nothing. A cool hand cupped him where he was hot and aching, and he shivered. “There,” he tried to moan, somewhat uselessly. Alastor knew where he liked to be touched, he didn’t need Angel’s muffled guidance. 

_ “If you’re too noisy, we’ll have to stop,”  _ the faceless voice told him.  _ “Be a good pet for me, hmm?” _

God, Angel didn’t know if he wanted to kiss him or kill him, but he silenced himself as tendrils eased his hot pants down around his thighs, revealing lacy pink panties that strained at the seams, barely holding back his erection.

With a low, guttural sound, Angel let himself go limp against the loveseat, let his eyes roll back and close, as Alastor teased him with barely-there touches.

He was probably sitting on the damn chaise right now, sipping coffee, staring out over Pentagram City and literally twiddling his fingers to get this shadow to do his bidding, and the thought had Angel arching his back again.

There was something  _ so _ hot about Al's bored expression, as though he was merely humoring Angel, when Angel could sense with every fibre of his being how much Alastor wanted him. He could feel it against his skin with every hiss of static, like he could now.

He'd  _ never _ been wanted so completely before. It was the best kind of overwhelming.

He turned his head a little, eyes half open as he stared out into the library, and let tendrils and shadowy limbs stroke his thighs, tease the skin just beneath the hem of his panties, close but not close enough. God it felt good. Everything Alastor did to him felt good. Every time.

_ "Such an obedient thing when you want to be," _ Alastor praised him, and Angel squirmed in pleasure, cheeks so pink now that the tiny camouflaged eyes beneath the two he used were almost lost against them.

He  _ was _ obedient. For Al. He would be anything and everything for Al.

Little slivers of sensation wormed their way under the panties, wrapping around the base of his cock, slipping back to prod at his entrance. Alastor had told Angel more than once that he was ‘easy,’ that he bent so quickly and so  _ well _ to Alastor’s whims. He was easy now, parting his thighs willingly when the tentacles restraining them tugged. 

A tendril slipped into him, pulsing as it began to expand, stretching him open, and--

“What. The  _ fuck???” _

The shadow startled. There was no other word for it, the flickering in and out of existence that left Angel unpleasantly empty. After a few flickers, it came to a decision and vanished entirely, leaving Angel half naked on the sofa. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Vaggie said again. She was standing in the doorway, gaping, pointing with a shaking hand at the space Alastor’s shadow had once inhabited. “You! Him!  _ Him???” _

“Him,” Angel said, rolling his eyes as he tugged his hot pants back up around his hips. This was  _ not _ how he’d imagined this conversation going. Not that he’d expected to have this conversation for a long while yet. “And ya can’t tell anyone, got it, toots?”

Vaggie  _ must _ have been in shock, she didn’t even react to Angel’s condescending pet name. She just kept gaping, slack-jawed. 

“Angel,” she finally managed. “He’s  _ the Radio Demon _ . You’d never heard of him before, you don’t understand how dangerous he is.”

Angel bit back a laugh. “Believe me,” he said, rising to his feet, “I understand. But it’s  _ top secret _ , Vagatha.”

The use of her full name gave Vaggie pause. It wasn’t every day Angel called her that. “Angel,” she said, voice uncharacteristically soft. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing? You don’t need any more trouble chasing you down.”

The concern touched Angel, deep inside. He faltered, cheeks flushing pink. He almost didn’t respond, caught off guard as he was. “I’m sure,” he said gently. “Just… trust me to make my own decisions.”

Vaggie eyed him, up and down, as if searching for the slightest hint of uncertainty. When she didn’t find any, she gave him a nod, and then drew in a deep breath.

“This is the  _ library!” _

* * *

HUSKER, IN THE BAR

* * *

“Al, come  _ on!” _ Angel whined, damn near smearing himself over the bar-cum-breakfast counter as Alastair picked up a perfectly baked scone to examine over his monocle. “I don’t wanna go.”

“And yet, you must, dear fellow!” Alastor could sense far further than Angel could, in regards to their surroundings. Angel gauged by the pitch of Al’s ‘broadcasting voice’ how likely they were to be alone at any given moment. “That’s the whole  _ idea _ behind this shebang, no? Redemption?”

“Yeah, well it ain’t gonna come through us hosting a fuckin’ bake sale,” Angel mumbled.

Charlie had woken everyone up  _ very early _ and shuffled them into the enormous kitchen for a whole day of  _ ‘baking and cupcakes and fun!!’ _ and it wasn’t even that Angel minded the baking. It wasn’t hard, and he could lick the icing off the spoon suggestively until Vaggie death-glared him or Charlie asked him gently to maybe use another spoon for the next batch.

That’s where everyone was, now, in the kitchen still. The occasional clatter of a metal bowl or a shriek from one of the idiots actually set on redeeming themselves when something went awry. Angel had snuck away under the pretense of bringing come scones to the front room in case someone came in and wanted them.

But he knew he couldn’t linger forever without someone coming to check on him.

He was still, unfortunately, the face and name associated with the hotel, like a fucking mascot.

“All good deeds add up, my dear,” Alastor sing-songed, and winked when Angel glared at him. “Crumb by crumb, scone by scone.”

“The road to hell is paved with good fuckin’ intentions, Al,” Angel replied, grinning. “I’m already here, what am I gonna do with more good deeds?”

“Fulfill your promise,” Alastor said, with a grand, sweeping gesture. “You  _ did _ promise to behave for Miss Charlie, did you not?”

He said it with a teasing lilt, as if  _ Miss _ Charlie was short for  _ Mistress _ , and Angel burst into a flurry of giggles that he frantically stifled into his hand. 

“I promised to behave for  _ you _ ,” he told Alastor, “and absolutely not a single other god-forsaken soul.”

Alastor’s eyes glinted, as Angel had known they would. Alastor may have known all of Angel’s buttons, but Angel knew all of  _ his _ as well. “Have you?” He purred. As if he didn’t know, as if he didn’t hold Angel in the palm of his sharp-clawed hands. 

Angel leaned back against the bar, arching his back, showing off the goods. Al might not have been into ‘em, but he certainly liked to look his fill. 

And look he did, a long, slow drift from Angel’s eyes all the way down to the toes of his thigh-high boots. “You aren’t behaving for me  _ now _ , are you?” he said, the very air around them humming with dangerous promise.

“If I say no, are ya gonna  _ make  _ me?”

The loud, bright, and cheery tone was gone, whatever worries Al had had about being seen had passed for the moment; though Angel knew he was ever vigilant, shadows everywhere spying and whispering. Between them and the rest of the hotel, stood a large, heavy kitchen door. 

“I will  _ tell you, _ to be good,” Alastor countered. “And perhaps  _ remind you _ of your promise to me should you choose to disobey.”

Oh, Angel liked this game. He knew this game so, so well.

Al wasn’t really into roleplay, and if Angel were honest, neither was he. Who needed roleplay when you had a  _ demon _ as your lover? With shadows and tentacles and all sorts of fun shit to play with? But once in a while, Angel liked to fall back on the ol’ favourites.

“Are you gonna  _ spank _ me?” Angel wheedled, drawing the toe of one boot in a teasing little circle against the floor as his finger traced the same shape on the bar. “Coz I’m being a  _ bad boy?” _

The words were barely out of Angel’s mouth when Alastor was… closer. He had a way of moving that was just  _ eerie, _ he’d flicker from one place to another, zipping through space as though it didn’t even exist for him. And now he was nose to nose with Angel, and one hand was wrapped around Angel’s arm, just tight enough to send his heart skittering in excitement.

“I shouldn’t need to anymore, should I, sweetheart?” Al murmured, tilting his head a little. Angel squirmed happily, shaking his head. “But you just like to  _ push _ sometimes, don’t you dearling? Just enough that you need to be reminded.”

“What do I gotta be reminded ‘bout?” Angel asked, drawing his nose against Alastor’s in a nuzzle.

“That I like things pristine, and lovely,” Alastor replied, eyes unblinking as he gazed right into Angel, almost through him. “And should my things not be so, I will  _ correct  _ them.”

Angel wanted to kiss him so fucking  _ badly, _ but he resisted. It would taste all the sweeter if he resisted it now, let the game play out to its full extent. 

He licked his lips, though, tasting static on his tongue. Alastor’s eyes gleamed, luminescent in the dim lighting. 

“Remind me,” Angel pleaded, voice low and hungry. “ _ Correct _ me.”

Alastor spun him, his grip rough and unyielding, not that Angel was resisting. Angel’s unnatural height benefited them, here; he generally slouched or bent at the waist around Alastor, but he was the perfect height to tilt ass-up over the bar. Angel closed his eyes, relishing in the contact.

Alastor could be  _ handsy _ , when he wanted to. He didn’t like Angel (or anyone else) touching back, but in a good mood, he put his hands  _ all over _ Angel’s body. He must have been at  _ least _ at a six, today, given the way his hands lingered on Angel’s waist and hips as he slowly shoved Angel’s shirt up and tugged his pants down. His  _ bare _ hands, the gloves suddenly gone, banished to wherever Al kept his things when he didn’t want them. 

“Beautiful,” Al murmured, sending a shiver down Angel’s spine as Al tugged his panties down around his thighs.

Angel was about to quip something back, say something about how he’s always beautiful, especially for Al, about how he’d dressed up special, just for this, but he didn’t have time. Al’s palm came down hard against his ass, the sound a little too loud in the otherwise empty lobby, and Angel didn’t even manage to cry out in surprise before a shadow wrapped around his mouth and muffled the noise.

_ Holy shit _ he was literally going to spank him bent over the goddamn bar. With his  _ bare hands. _ This couldn’t have been any hotter, in Angel’s mind. 

Well… maybe if he was dressed up with thigh high socks, and a silky little teddy, and some of those lacey bloomers Al loved so much, and he was being bent over Al’s lap instead of the bar and--

_ “Oww!” _ Angel groaned into the thing holding him quiet. His cheeks were burning, on his face and his ass, and he was in goddamn nirvana. When Alastor hit him, he  _ hit him. _ He didn’t play around with a warm up, or coddling, he hit Angel hard and he hit him true and it was perfect. No one else had ever made Angel feel this way, not ever. He wanted to moan, to whimper Al’s name, to beg him to hit him harder, to summon his cane and use that next--

“Urgh, for fuck’s sake,” the voice came as a surprise, and Angel nearly flung himself off the bar. Or he could have tried to, had Alastor not been holding him fast. His blows didn’t stop, in fact, they came quicker, and Angel keened.

From behind the bar, Husker sat up, one eye open wider than the other, as hung over as Angel had ever seen him. Not that he’d ever seen the cat-demon sober.

“I’ve seen you do some weird fucking shit in your time, Al, but this is a whole new fuckin’ low.”

“Husker,” Al acknowledged him as though they were exchanging morning greetings over brunch. “You’re welcome to stay and watch, of course, but I’d hoped you’d sleep through this.”

“Yeah, some rest with this kinky shit on my bar,” Husk muttered. “Get a fuckin’ room.”

“We did,” Alastor said, and then  _ spanked Angel again _ . “This one.”

Angel let out a startled squeak, hands flailing until shadowy tentacles caught them and pinned them. For a moment, he thought they were really going to do this, that Al was really going to spank him red and crying in front of  _ Husker _ . 

Before Angel could properly get an idea of how he felt about that, Husk leaned over him, jabbing Alastor in the chest with a thumb, by the sound of it. 

“No,” Husker grumbled. “This is  _ my  _ fucking bar. Ain’t nobody sullying it with their weird sex things.”

Alastor made no move to let Angel go. Angel whimpered, rising up onto his toes, but when he didn’t tap out Alastor merely nudged him back down. 

“You’re sure you don’t want a  _ show _ ?” Alastor asked smoothly. “I’ve seen those wandering eyes, Husker, don’t think I haven’t.”

_ Angel _ certainly hadn’t, but nobody else seemed willing to catch him up, at the moment. 

When Husker stepped back, a bright red flush showed through his fur. He didn’t budge, though, pointing towards the door. “A  _ room _ ,” he insisted. “ _ Not _ my bar.  _ Never _ my bar.”

“Very well, then,” Alastor said, unraveling himself from Angel. “Would you care to join us?”

“If I wanted to watch you get your jollies, I’d ask,” Husker grumbled. 

Angel grabbed onto the bar and panted, eyes wide and cheeks painfully red. He was certain that every stripe on his body was glowing embarrassingly bright. He didn’t make a move to dress himself, and he absolutely didn’t look at Husker, who was still  _ right fucking there. _

“Well, the invitation shall not be extended again,” Alastor replied, his tone amused again. When he touched Angel once more, his hands were gloved, but gentle. He pulled Angel’s pants and underwear up and squeezed possessively against his thigh. “Come along, sweetling, let’s not encumber dear Husker further with our presence.”

Angel heard him but he didn’t immediately move to obey. Instead, he caught his breath, and dragged a hand through his hair, and pushed himself up on his elbows. When he spoke his voice cracked and he hated how much he loved the sound of it. Al could break him down without so much as breaking a sweat.

“Can I get a shot for the road?” he asked, offering a grin that was only partially as confident as he was playing it off to be. Instead of a glass, Husk set a full bottle down in front of him.

“Yer gonna need it,” he grumbled. “Once he gets that fuckin’ look in his eye, he’s fuckin’ rabid.”

Angel snorted, pushing himself to his full height again, and taking the bottle with one hand. “Yeah,” he winked. “I know.”

* * *

CHARLIE, IN THE GARDEN

* * *

Sometimes, they didn’t have to sneak so hard. 

There were places in the hotel that weren’t seeing a lot of foot traffic at certain times of the day, and Al and Angel took full advantage.

And it wasn’t as though they couldn’t just zip back to Al’s apartment and come back, or use Angel’s room. But there was something… freeing… about being able to be publicly affectionate, now that…

Well.

Angel didn’t like to say that Alastor  _ owned _ him, coz it was nothing like what Val did, and Angel was happy to be with him, contract aside… but he’d trashed a lot of the apartment when Al had admitted to buying it. He’d been scared more than anything that  _ something could have fucking happened _ to Al, that he  _ didn’t need to be a fucking thrice-damned hero _ for him. But in the end, Al was alright, and so was Angel, and the piece of paper with Angel’s name signed in whatever essence of his soul was left was safely hidden in one of Alastor’s multi-dimensional table drawers.

But they could be together now, without Val getting in the way, without  _ anyone _ getting in the way, and more and more both of them seemed to want to just push aside the veneer of secrecy while not saying anything. Vaggie and Husker knew, now, so where was the harm in telling others?

Al had found Angel under one of the apple trees in the garden, and had bent to kiss him on the cheek before folding himself to sit beside him. Close enough that they nearly touched, close enough for Angel to feel his presence all along the side of his body. 

“Number?” Angel asked, flipping his hand palm up. Alastor took it, drawing Angel’s hand up to kiss the knuckles, gently. 

“Seven,” he said, a smile quirking at the corners of his lips. A  _ genuine _ smile, not the fake beaming grin he wore to frighten the masses. “And you, lovely?”

“Take a guess,” Angel said, with a smile that was all teeth.

Alastor didn’t have to guess. He never did. There had never been a moment where Angel didn’t welcome all of him, any way he could get it. Even shaking and shivering, caught in the throes of a frightening flashback, Angel reached for Al.

“I’ve been thinking,” Al began slowly, “perhaps it’s time we were more…  _ public _ , with our affections.”

“You wanna tell more people?” Angel asked. 

“My dear, I want to tell the  _ world _ about you.”

Angel practically melted, allowing their shoulders to touch, their arms, leaning against Al as much as he thought would be allowed. Al released his hand to wrap an arm around his waist, instead. 

Angel laughed, a quiet, happy little giggle, and moved to rest his legs over Al’s, as though he were sitting in his lap, but not quite. He looked up at him before just sighing and leaning in to nuzzle beneath Al’s chin, just content to sit there. Alastor stroked his hair, gently cupped his calf, holding Angel close.

When Val had told Angel he wanted the world to know his name, he’d made Angel into the most famous porn star in Hell. He’d had his name up in lights, had Angel’s face on every billboard, on the cover of every magazine. And the whole time, Angel felt invisible, like no one could see him at all, like he didn’t even exist.

He knew, as truly as he knew that he was wanted, that Al’s proclamation would not be anything like Val’s.

“What brought this on?” Angel asked after a while, reaching to take Alastor’s hand to just touch, gently pressing each fingertip to one of Al’s, spreading his fingers, slotting them together until they were palm to palm. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for people knowin’ but… ya don’t have to, ya know? It’s okay if we’re just… us.”

“I’ve no desire to hide my feelings for you away,” Alastor countered. “And now,”

The pause allowed Angel to fill in the unspoke words. Now we’re safe to be seen, now  _ you’re _ safe to be with me.

Angel swallowed, he couldn’t fight a smile that was tilting his lips up. “You gonna broadcast it all over?” he asked, only half joking. He knew Alastor could, and would, if he felt Angel wanted that. He wasn’t sure he didn’t, he just didn’t want to poke a sleeping bear, as it were, and shove his freedom into Val’s face, taunting him with it.

“As a five part serial,” Al replied, and his voice immediately took on that crackling, staticy quality of an old radio. “Of how I found an Angel in Hell.”

Angel snorted, ducking to hide his face against Al’s chest again. Cheesy bastard.

“Perhaps I will have you singing,” Alastor added, as if he’d read Angel’s mind before. Maybe he had; Angel was never entirely sure he’d figured out all of Alastor’s tricks. “That lovely voice of yours pulled high for all to hear.”

Angel tried to think of anyone else who’d ever called his voice ‘lovely, with his thick accent and high pitch. He could count the incidents on one hand, and most of them were still just Al. 

But when Al said it, he clearly meant it, and Angel nuzzled against him with another pleased sigh. “Anythin’ you want,” he said, and he meant it, too. 

Alastor hummed his pleasure, and the world seemed all the brighter for it. “I prefer not to share you in such passion,” he said, cupping Angel’s jaw in his hand and tilting his head up. “There are certain things I want to belong only to me.”

“They do,” Angel promised, meeting his eyes with a slowly spreading smile. “All of me, Al. You know that.”

“I do,” Alastor agreed. He tugged Angel a hair closer, his lips brushing against Angel’s parted ones. He nipped gently at Angel, a tease of teeth, and Angel moaned softly. 

Angel grasped Alastor by the lapels and pulled him closer, kissing him properly, humming, pleased and warm, when Al cupped his cheek and brought his other hand up as well, stroking through Angel’s hair.

He felt giddy. He felt stupidly giddy. He’d thought that Alastor would grow bored. He was quick to grow bored with so many things, but he’d not grown bored of Angel. He’d thought that once-- if, Angel reminded himself, for a long time it was  _ if-- _ Al bought out Angel’s contract, he’d turn nasty, just like Val had. He’d thought that nothing would ever come close to making him feel this way.

It hadn’t in life, why should it now?

But here he was, kissing Alastor under a goddamn apple tree in the garden of a hotel set up to redeem sinners. This was real. This was happening. And he was fucking  _ happy. _

“Yer a fuckin’ sap,” Angel told him affectionately, narrowing his eyes as he looked at Al again. “The scariest motherfucker in all of Hell, apparently, but not with me.”

“Not with you,” Al agreed, tilting his head. “Unless we both desire for me to be.”

Angel grinned, gold tooth on display.

“Yeah, you can be real fuckin’ mean,” Angel purred, pleased. “You won’t lemme get Fat Nuggets a brother.”

“I think one is quite enough,” Alastor smiled, tucking some hair behind Angel’s ear. “How many times has that poor creature walked in on something he shouldn’t see, hmm? And you want to subject another innocent soul to that?”

Angel snorted, shaking his head. Nuggs did have a habit of showing up in the bedroom (or the bathroom or the kitchen or the--) when neither of them were in the mood to pay him much mind. He was about to say something else, tease some more, when he heard familiar grunting, snuffling, oinking…

He turned his head, watching as Nuggs trotted across the lawn towards them, squealing in excitement, his leash trailing behind him and behind  _ that-- _

“No come  _ here! _ You need to let me get the leash off you so you don’t tangle up,” Charlie called, laughing as she followed the little pig across the grass, towards the tree, and Angel and Al sitting beneath it. “You gotta-- oh. Oh! Oh my god!”

Angel was suddenly very aware of their posture. Al, leaning half against the tree and half against it’s suspiciously solid shadow. Angel, pressed against his side, his legs thrown over Al’s, Al’s arm around his waist and Angel’s cheek pressed up against his. He blinked at Charlie. She blinked back, and then, to Angel’s mixed amusement and horror, she made a sound so shrill it could have shattered glass.

“Oh my  _ god!”  _ She said. She was the only one in all of hell who would ever  _ dare _ invoke such a name, and she did so with the biggest smile Angel had ever seen. “This is  _ wonderful _ !”

Angel’s mind stalled out for a moment. That wasn’t  _ quite _ what he’d been expecting from her, but then, Charlie was sometimes entirely unpredictable. “Uhh… yeah?” He finally said. “Yeah, uh, I certainly think so.”

He felt Alastor hide a smile against his hair, and bit back a grin of his own. 

Charlie, it seemed, was not done fawning over them. She bounced up onto her toes, hands framing her face, as if struggling to contain her elation. “Love is the  _ purest _ thing there is,” she informed them. “You can’t love if you don’t have at least a  _ little _ good in you. Oh, I  _ knew _ it was a great idea to let Alastor into the hotel. You’ll redeem each other!”

You could have heard a pin drop.

“Uh,” Angel’s voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat. He felt Al against him, still and tense, but there was no static, no ominous hum of electricity. He was pretty sure that if there had been lightbulbs in the vicinity they wouldn’t have shattered, which was a good thing. A very good thing. A great thing. Being walked in on by Vaggie once had been an accident, Husk finding out hardly mattered since Alastor trusted him. But Charlie…

Charlie was beaming at the two of them, seemingly unperturbed by their lack of enthusiasm at her statement, and Alastor wasn’t vanishing, he wasn’t pretending like this was a misunderstanding, he wasn’t putting on his broadcasting voice and playing it off as a farce.

He  _ really wanted people to know. _

Hell, Angel felt like he could ascend then and there. Maybe Charlie was onto something with this love business.

Not that this was love or anything. Angel wasn’t that deluded.

“How did you keep it  _ secret _ for so long?” Charlie asked next, squirming happily in place as she bounced from one foot to the other. “Someone’s always  _ there, _ and Alastor, you’re always so adamant about keeping your own space and--  _ oh! _ Is that why? So you could go and be with Angel?”

“Yes and no,” Alastor replied, amused. He turned his cheek against Angel’s hair. “I do get  _ some _ work done. The hotel still stands.”

“Oh! I wasn’t-- I didn’t mean to imply that--”

“I gotta fight to get his attention,” Angel interrupted with a laugh. “Trust me, when he’s workin’ he’s workin.”

Charlie looked at him then, still elated and smiling wide. “Angel I am  _ so happy _ for you. Love is so rare down here, and for you to have found it… I don’t think there’s anyone more deserving.”

Angel blushed, ducking his head. “Hey, look, this ain’t an award ceremony, princess, I ain’t no saint. Still damned as they come. Still at the hotel ain’t I? Workin’ on the whole redemption thing.”

“But now it’s in  _ reach _ ,” Charlie told him, sounding awestruck. “I always knew you could do it, but now I have proof. Nothing truly bad can love, I feel it in my  _ soul _ .”

Alastor was probably one of the closest things Hell had to  _ evil _ , but Angel didn’t have the heart to correct Charlie when she seemed so happy. No matter what they felt for each other, they were what they were at their core. They would always be sinners, but at least now, they had each other. 

“Thanks, Charlie,” Angel said, doing his best to sound genuine. He found it wasn’t hard; there was something about Charlie that made people  _ want _ to do the right thing. Something not quite Hellish about her. 

“You’re welcome,” she chirped, with visible delight. “Ooh! If you ever wanted to get married, we could have the wedding at the hotel--”

“Woah woah woah,” Angel said, holding up two sets of hands. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, here. No one’s getting married.” He wasn’t actually sure their circle of Hell  _ allowed _ marriage, or if it did, no one he knew had ever taken advantage. Shacked up, sure, called each other the old ball and chain, but  _ married _ ?

“Not  _ yet _ ,” Charlie said, with an exaggerated wink that was more of a blink. Angel felt a rumble against his side and realized Alastor was  _ laughing _ , softly, subtly. 

It was the most wonderful sensation; it wasn’t even a  _ sound. _

“This ain’t that kinda show,” Angel tried again, but Charlie couldn’t be swayed. So instead, he looked at Al, eyebrows raised, and waited for him to shrug the offer off as well, which he did, with an elegant lift of his shoulders.

“Well, I can’t  _ wait _ to tell Vaggie!”

“She knows,” Alastor interrupted quietly. Charlie looked like someone had slapped her in the face with a wet fish.

“She  _ knows?” _

“Vagatha unfortunately walked in on an intimate meeting in the library,” Alastor continued, turning one hand to look at his nails as the other caressed up and down Angel’s side. “Quite thoroughly destroyed the mood, I must say.”

“And she didn’t  _ tell me?” _ Charlie’s pitch was rising, Nuggs snuffled and perked his ears up at the sound. “I can’t believe she didn’t  _ tell me! _ Urgh, she was always the  _ best _ at keeping secrets. I can’t keep a secret at  _ all, _ not a surprise party or  _ anything, _ but  _ Vaggie--” _

Angel tuned her out, as he was sure Alastor did. Instead he just leaned against him again and enjoyed being petted.

If he were still alive, in this moment, he could say he’d die happy. But since he was already dead, he supposed he’d settle on staying happy. Who knew, right? Weirder things had happened.

* * *

NIFFTY, WHO ALREADY KNEW

* * *

Al didn’t like sex, and he didn’t like to play pretend, but he liked to spoil Angel fuckin’ rotten. Compromise was, therefore, an acceptable ‘sometimes’ treat.

One late Thursday evening found Angel and Alastor in a closet, Angel in a frilly black maid’s outfit that barely covered his ass, complete with a lace-embroidered apron, an adorable headband tied into his hair, and thigh high socks with little black bows at the tops. Al had him bent over and pressed chest-first against the wall, a position that made their height difference irrelevant. 

“Fuck,” Angel hissed, as tentacles slowly eased his skirt up, revealing the tiny white bloomers he’d worn under it. 

“Hush,” Alastor reminded him. “Look at you, you’ve been gift wrapped for me.” He let his fingers creep up Angel’s thigh, tugging at some of the ribbons woven through the legs of the bloomers. 

Angel whimpered, covering his mouth with a hand. It was nearly impossible to keep quiet when he had Alastor’s  _ hands _ touching him, and Al knew that. 

“It’s been too long since you put on a show for me,” Alastor murmured. “Perhaps a dance, later. I want to see you keep your poise when you’re sore and aching for me.”

Angel moaned, eyes closing as he arched his back deeper and practically  _ begged _ for Alastor to touch him more.

It had been quite the revelation when Angel had discovered that Al was, in fact, very interested in seeing him dance. And strip. And perform. For a long time, it had been Angel’s escape from the literal Hell around him; back before Val coerced him into a contract and changed all fun into work, Angel would dance until his body couldn’t hold him up anymore, and he  _ lived for it. _

He’d always assumed that Al would find his stripping as unappealing as he found any sort of showy performance-- with his bright sparkling costumes and slutty choice of clothing-- but he’d been knocked off his feet when Al had  _ asked him to dance for him. _

The more he thought about it, in retrospect, the more sense it made for Al to enjoy something like a striptease or a lapdance; Angel didn’t touch him, and Alastor wasn’t supposed to touch back, and he could watch Angel move his body in sinuous, lovely ways as he slowly revealed it.

After that, things had escalated quickly. They always did, with them.

And now here they were. In the closet.

Again.

Kind of.

“Lovely boy, look how sensitive you are,” Al murmured, his hands skimming up Angel’s body to tease his nipples through the fabric. The outfit was skimpy, it was grotesquely showy, but as with anything and everything Al gave his Angel, it was made of the highest quality silk and lace. “You can come just from this, can’t you? Just from me teasing you this way,” he tweaked a nipple before rolling it between his fingers until Angel was shaking.

Al knew he could, he knew it  _ damn well _ , but it wasn’t an answer he was looking for. What he was looking for, Angel knew, was submission, compliance. The knowledge that he had Angel right where he wanted him. 

And oh, he did. 

“Al,  _ please _ ,” Angel begged, knees shaking from the effort of keeping himself bent and still. He didn’t dare straighten out and relieve the pressure, not when it would take him out of Alastor’s hungry grasp. 

Although the punishment would be worth it.

“I believe I told you to hush,” Alastor said, the smile in his voice audible. “It’s me you’re meant to be on display for, not the entire hotel.”

In retaliation, he pinched both nipples at once, twisting until Angel had to bite down hard on his lip to hold back a shriek. Angel’s cock twitched in his bloomers, smearing dampness across the front of the silk. 

“I think I’d like you to come like this,” Al told him. “Still in your pretty underthings, without any stimulation beyond my fingertips.”

The sound Angel made was guttural and low, deep enough in his chest that he knew Alastor could feel the vibration against his hands. He trembled as tentacles wrapped around his thighs and spread his legs further, easing the tense bend of his back to something more tolerable. It also changed his position to be absolutely wanton.

Al spread his palm over Angel’s chest, hands wide enough that he reached right across it, and gave him a moment to breathe. When he spoke next, he was closer, lips tickling against Angel’s ear as he whispered to him.

“And you will, won’t you? You’ll be so obedient for me, such a good little harlot, hmm?”

Alastor rarely called Angel a slut or a whore, though once in a while-- in a fit of passion-- the words would penetrate Angel deeper than even Al’s shadows could. He called him other things. Older things. Words that Angel had grown up with, words that felt, in their archaic nature, almost more filthy for it.

“You’ll make a mess of yourself, whimpering and trembling and trying to tell me how sorry you are for being so utterly filthy. But we both know the truth, don’t we, Angel?”

_ Oh god, _ Angel’s heart was beating a mile a minute, his cock was so hard it  _ hurt-- _

“That deep down, at the very  _ core _ of you, you’re just a dirty little--”

Light flooded the dim closet and for a moment Angel was completely blinded by it. He wondered numbly if Alastor, with his goddamn magical fucking fingers had actually made him come so hard he saw heaven. But then things came into focus and he saw Niffty calmly rooting about in one of the buckets on the floor, looking for something.

“D’ya mind?!” Angel snapped, instinctively dropping his prop duster to cover absolutely nothing from absolutely no angle.

“Oh!” She blinked up at him, looking between him and Alastor with her usual wide smile. “Don’t mind me, just getting some things. We run out of supplies so  _ quickly! _ ”

She went back to her rifling, zipping about among their feet. Angel gaped at her. Alastor, on the other hand, seemed unphased, and Angel found himself irritably batting tentacles away from his skirts. 

“Niffty,” Angel said, voice tight. 

Niffty peered up at him with her one large eye, her smile wide. “Almost done,” she chirped, and proceeded to  _ climb up Angel’s back _ to reach the upper shelves. She was gone before Angel could yell at her, standing in the doorway with a dozen things precariously balanced atop a bucket on her head. 

“Umm, Mister Angel, Sir?” she said, hands clasped in front of her. Angel groaned and straightened up to his full height.

“Yeah, Niffty?” he asked, running a hand through his hair. 

“You and Master Alastor are  _ wonderful _ bosses,” she assured him, “but  _ terrible  _ messes. I wouldn’t quit my day job, if I were you.” With a wave of her hand, she indicated Angel’s maid outfit. 

Before Angel could say a word, the door was closed again and they were plunged back to the gloom of the hallway cleaning supplies closet. 

For a moment, his mouth opened and closed, like a fish out of water, before he turned to look at Al, only to find him giving Angel a fond look.

“How are you not  _ weirded out by that?” _ he hissed, gesturing with all his hands towards the closed door. Alastor shrugged.

“Darling, you’ve been in and out of my apartment for months now, Niffty has seen a great many things, and few of them were a surprise to her at the time.”

“She--” Angel pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. “Seriously?”

“Now,” Angel felt warm fingers, real fingers, Alastor’s fingers, wrap around his wrist and guide it away from his face to press to the wall instead. “I think I quite like the idea of seeing your face as I take you apart.”

Angel groaned, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face. He allowed himself to be flattened against the wall, allowed his tension to ease as Alastor leaned in to kiss him, reassured him all was well with a nuzzle. The entire minute and a half of shock was forgotten almost immediately when without warning tentacles slipped into Angel’s bloomers and Alastor’s fingers squeezed his nipples  _ hard, _ and Angel was forced to slap a hand over his mouth to keep himself quiet.

He was good at that, at least. Good for Alastor. Good  _ with him. _ If that was as close as he had to a ‘day job’ now? He’d never fucking quit. Not for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Questions? Comments? Love? Ping us over on [TWITTER](https://twitter.com/sw_writestuff), [TUMBLR](https://stratsandwhiskeywritestuff.tumblr.com/), or [CURIOUSCAT](https://curiouscat.me/sw_writestuff)!
> 
>  _All of this silence and patience, pining in anticipation  
>  My hands are shaking from holding back from you (ah, ah, ah)  
> All of this silence and patience, pining and desperately waiting  
> My hands are shaking from holding back from all this (ha, ha, ha, ha)_  
> \- Dress by Taylor Swift


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